Hexing can be Vexing
by WitchyWeasel
Summary: An arrest goes less than well, leaving Arthur the victim of a sorcerer's spell. His tongue-twisted fate has him feeling irate. Can he find help before it's too late? - An ageing trickster forces Arthur to speak in rhyme to his great displeasure.
1. The Spell

_**A/N: I know I should be working on the next chapter of Seeing is Believing before my readers lynch me but this idea popped into my insane head and it won't leave me alone (and I only started it to prove to myself I couldn't write it). It began as a short idea but it got away from me a bit so I'm breaking it up. According to plan it will probably be about 6(ish) parts written when I'm in the right mood and when have the time. I hope it's going to be mildly entertaining (if a little unusual).**_

_**update: This was started prior to series 3 and in my head is set sometime in the series 2-3 gap but there's little specific to tie it down to this other than the lack of Morgana and Cenred is identified as a threat. Anything which doesn't quite tally up with the show was unforseen at the time.  
**_

_**Summary: Arthur falls foul of a sorcerer's spell and very little is going well. He's very irate about his tongue-twisted fate. Can Merlin help him before it's too late? An aging magical prankster evades capture but his latest 'joke' has unforeseen repercussions.**_

_**Warnings: None, although due to the nature of this fic, some people might find it a bit too much to read in all in one go if they're starting this after a few chapters have already been posted. Also, if you take this too seriously you do so at your own risk.  
**_

_**Pairings: No slash here! Maybe some mild Arthur/Gwen in later chapters but I'm not entirely sure yet. Depends whether or not it fits.  
**_

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, it is the BBC and Shine's. I get no profit from writing this, only fun.**_

* * *

**Hexing Can Be Vexing**

**Part 1**

The slender old man set his book down on the small wooden table in the centre of his simple home, brushing a strand of long grey hair from his face so it hung with the rest that cascaded in a thin curtain down his back. A faint noise outside made him look up with a start. He smiled. He may be old but his hearing was as sharp as ever and a playful twinkle flashed across his widened eyes.

Standing up, he moved to the fire and helped himself to a serving of stew which was bubbling in a pot hanging over the flames. He ladled a small portion into a wooden bowl and sat back down at the table, his back deliberately at the window and facing the only entrance.

Unseen, but not unnoticed, a raven-haired head peered cautiously over the lower edge of the window-frame.

"Is he inside? What-do-they-call-him?" Arthur hissed to his servant turned lookout. Merlin ducked back down and turned round to face him, catching his head on the sill as he did. Stealthy surveillance was not his forte – not when someone was watching anyway.

"Bryce apparently and yes, he's eating," Merlin replied. "Are you sure he's a threat to the kingdom, he looks about ninety?"

"He's suspected of sorcery," Arthur pointed out matter-of-factly.

"It sounds more like a practical joke to me."

"Either way, that's for my father to decide. My job is to bring him in."

"There's nothing like a fair trial," said Merlin cynically.

"And you can stop that sort of talk, right now. You know the law," Arthur whispered firmly.

"Alright, so what's the plan?"

Arthur proceeded to give a lot of exuberant and overly complicated gestures with his hands, which Merlin supposed meant something to him. He nodded blankly as Arthur's no doubt devilishly cunning sorcerer-capturing strategy soared straight over his head.

"Got that?" Arthur asked him softly. Merlin continued to nod unblinkingly and then his nodding morphed into slow bewildered shaking. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Forget it," he said, grabbing Merlin unexpectedly by the collar of his jacket and dragging him roughly round the sides of the small run-down hut until they were just outside the door.

Arthur stood poised for action, two hands firmly gripped around his sword, held upright at the ready. Merlin was right beside him, waiting to follow Arthur's lead.

"One... two..." Arthur mouthed clearly. On "three" he kicked down the door and charged into the room. "You're under arrest!" he shouted.

Merlin ducked as a bowl came flying across the room. It missed him but he felt a warm trickle of gravy down his neck. Their target was stood in the corner laughing and Arthur advanced, annoyed that he didn't look like coming quietly. He managed two brisk steps before finding himself engaged in combat with a magically animated mop.

"I think this settles the matter of sorcery," Arthur panted between sword-swings, until Merlin, with some surreptitious magical intervention, managed to drag the unlikely weapon away from him. "Well don't just stand there, Merlin," Arthur yelled, racing forward without so much as a word of gratitude. "He's going to get away."

"Oh yes, right." Merlin threw aside the mop he was proudly clutching and rushed across the room towards the ageing magician who was watching his handiwork with amusement but showed no sign of bolting. A few mumbled words and the furniture in the room sprung to the centre, barricading their path.

The sorcerer held his hands up submissively. "I'm an old man," he said. "I ask that you show leniency."

"You have broken the laws of Camelot," Arthur stated. "Magic is banned absolutely. There are no exceptions to the rule."

"I don't want to hurt you but I warn you I have no plans on walking willingly to my death. I intend to have some fun in my final years. If you pursue me I'm not sure _you'll_ enjoy the consequences."

"Enough talk," Arthur said, pushing aside a chair that was part of the blockade.

"Arthur, maybe you should be careful. You don't know what you're up against," Merlin warned.

"I have a duty to Camelot," Arthur maintained and gestured to Merlin to shift the table. Merlin complied but kept an eye on Bryce, fully prepared to get in the way should he try anything.

Unfortunately he wasn't quick enough. The moment his hands touched the table, Bryce spoke and a silver light filled the room, sending Arthur flying backwards through the open door, which then closed, before Merlin could do anything.

"What did you do?" Merlin cried.

"Just a bit of fun," the sorcerer answered.

"I might have been able to help you, but not now."

"I don't want your help, boy. I think I'll be leaving now." The window behind him magically opened. Merlin's eyes flashed gold determinedly and it slammed shut again. "Very impressive," Bryce said surprised. "I wouldn't show that little trick of yours to anyone though, if I were you."

"If you'd refrained from your 'tricks' it wouldn't have been necessary."

"I'm sure you appreciate how tiresome hiding can be. I'm not much longer for this world and I know it. As such, I'm going out enjoying every last minute I have left.," He turned his back to Merlin. "I never liked that wall there anyway," he mused. "_**Ic ætberstan.**_**"**

With a loud resounding crack, the window reopened – along with most of the wall in fact – as the wooden planks splintered and broke apart leaving a large man-sized hole in its place.

"Goodbye then, it was _pleasant_ meeting you," Bryce waved.

"I can't just let you go," said Merlin firmly.

"Don't you want to check on your friend?"

A wave of panic rushed over Merlin and Bryce raised his eyebrows cryptically before making a hasty escape into the back woods. He was amazingly swift for his age but Merlin would have easily caught him if he'd tried. He knew he couldn't pursue though – not until he he knew Arthur was safe – and he hurried outdoors to find him, stumbling over the overturned furniture that was now strewn across the single room as he made his exit through the conventional door. He prayed that Arthur would be okay. He didn't know what sort of spell the old man had hurled at him. Everything he knew suggested that Bryce was a prankster rather than evil and he still failed to see why an incident involving purple sheep should could have caused so much fuss in the first place. Nevertheless, the law was the law. Sorcery mean death and people could be drive to do desperate things in desperate situations. Whether this would extend to hurting or even – Merlin tried to ignore a heavy lump that was swelling in his chest – killing Arthur, he didn't know.

As he burst outside he was hugely relieved to find Arthur clambering to his feet on the grass looking none the worse for his experience.

Suddenly however, the prince pulled a face and burst into an uncontrollable fit of coughing. Merlin regarded him, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. Arthur nodded vigorously as bent over he continued to cough as if he had swallowed something nasty. Finally, his face looking a little red, he stood up straight again and gave Merlin a vague reassuring smile.

"Thank goodness," Merlin said. "For a moment there you gave me a fright."

"You worry too much," Arthur answered. "I'm quite alright."

"Are you sure? Because that spell looked bad."

"Look Merlin, I'm a pretty tough lad."

"Lad?" Merlin frowned apprehensively. "That doesn't sound like you."

"Then who _do_ you think you're talking to."

"Something about this conversation is odd."

"Yes it's you, you stupid sod."

"Why are you rhyming your words with mine?"

"I'm telling you I'm speaking fine."

"You did it again," insisted Merlin. "Mine and fine."

"Are you sure you've not been on the wine?" Arthur's eyes widened in realisation and horror. "Oh no, it's true I'm rhyming you. There must be _something_ I can do."

"Can't you just stop?"

"The words just swap. _Argghh!" _he cried frustratedly. "Everything I try to say is coming out a different way. And now I'm even rhyming me. This is a catastrophe."

"It's not that bad, it could be worse."

"_Worse?_ This curse to speak in verse? Well sorry if I'm sounding terse. See things from my point of view. I now sound stupider than you. And don't forget another thing, Bayard of Mercia, a _king, _will be coming here in one day's time and I cannot greet the man in rhyme. Relations are finally on the up, after the incident with the poisoned cup. But _this_ would be an utter joke, they'd take offence soon as I spoke. Negotiations would be hard if I sound like a bloody bard. The whole event would be a farce that's bound to bite us in the..."

Merlin clasped a hand over Arthur's mouth and the prince was silenced. For a moment Arthur looked incredibly irritated by his impertinence before relief set in.

"That'll do." Merlin removed his palm.

"Thank you," Arthur said.

"I'm very _sure_ we'll find a _cure_," Merlin smirked.

"Must you be so immature."

"Sorry, just a bit of fun."

"Well, I fail to see the pun. It's not amusing and I won't be excusing if more rhymes you'll be overusing."

Merlin couldn't help it. He burst into laughter which was silenced (eventually) only by Arthur's stern glare.

"I'm sorry, Sire."

"You're not, you liar! I really think we should head back, though what I'll say about this attack... I wouldn't know where to begin and _Mer-_lin will you wipe that grin. Now I want no hassle on the way to the castle so as we're walking you're banned from talking. One remark about this spell and I'll make your life a living hell."

Merlin followed Arthur's wishes and they made their journey without so much as a murmur between them. It was a stark contrast to their usual banter and Merlin had to resist a strong urge to come out with a string of increasingly complicated words, just to see what would happen. He could understand though, why Arthur would find this degrading.

It was not a particularly long way and soon they found themselves outside the city walls. Merlin finally plucked up the courage to speak again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked nervously.

"My head is reeling in a manner unappealing. I think this may be hard concealing."

"No change then I hear."

"I wonder what gave you that idea."

A friendly guard nodded to the prince as they passed through the main gate. "Greetings, my lord."

"I wish to be ignored," snapped Arthur tetchily.

"Maybe no-one will notice what's wrong," Merlin suggested.

"Oh yes, I've sounded like this all along," said Arthur sarcastically. "Tell me just one person, _one_, who won't spot this. There are none. Look at me, a future king, rhyming each and everything. For heaven's sake, I'm Uther's son. This curse has got to be undone."

"Okay, first things first we'll speak to Gaius."

"Do you think that he can stop this bias for speaking in such an awkward fashion? Poetry is not my passion."

"I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"I can't believe this has happened to me!"

* * *

The uneasy silence which filled Gaius's cluttered workroom was broken by the brisk footsteps of a rather peeved prince.

"Sire, it would be easier to examine you if you could stand still," said Gaius.

"I'm not ill." Arthur complained, continuing his pacing from one side of the room to the other ignoring the two pairs of eyes which were following his every step.

"But you are wearing a hole in the floor," Merlin pointed out.

"I don't think I can take much more," Arthur moaned to himself. "This situation's too absurd, and if I rhyme another word..." He groaned in irritation then finally collapsed onto a chair.

"Can you do anything?" Merlin asked Gaius. The elderly physician shook his head.

"Aside from the obvious I can't find anything wrong with you," Gaius told Arthur, "Which I suppose we should be thankful for." He turned to a heavy volume and started flicking through it's yellowed pages. "I have seen a great many instances of people adversely affected by magic but nothing like this." He closed the book. "Without knowing exactly how this was caused it is difficult for me to speculate on a possible solution."

"My father will surely seek retribution and the sorcerer will face execution. Will this amend my elocution?"

There was a silence as Merlin and Gaius exchanged an awkward glance, the latter's expression becoming a glare as Merlin struggled to keep a straight face. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I can't help it! I want to quit."

Merlin forced himself to take the situation seriously knowing that this couldn't be easy for Arthur. And if this was the reaction he got from himself and Gaius, how would others respond? Additionally, anything that the prince might say in a vain attempt to regain a bit of dignity would only make the situation worse.

"I do believe that tracing the sorcerer responsible is the key to solving this problem," Gaius said. "But hasty actions might do more harm than good. Contrary to belief, the consequences of magic are are not invariably undone upon the death of the one who cast the spell. At the moment there is only one person who knows what was done and he is the only one likely to know how to reverse the effect."

"So we need to find Bryce?" Merlin said.

"Hang on a trice. He won't want to be found and has surely gone to ground. Just supposing as you're proposing we manage to trace him when we face him he'll be most tricky to persuade. He did this, why would he want to aid?"

"If you were to offer some incentive."

"I'm not happy with being _'inventive'_."

"Oh no!" said Merlin panicked. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what strategy _should_ I implement." The young servant cocked his head and gave Arthur an apprehensive look. "You must be kidding me! You're not suggesting he go free?" Arthur exclaimed.

Gaius took the opportunity to busy himself rearranging his bookcase.

"Let me be the voice of reason, you're actually suggesting treason. We're talking Camelot's highest law, not something I can just ignore. It's absolute. No dispute. He's a sorcerer of ill-repute. My decision will not be contested. This Bryce man will be arrested." Arthur hung his head. "But of course there's the other matter at hand – tomorrow Bayard will arrive as planned. And since I can't ignore my current state, I'll have to tell my father. _Great!_"


	2. Unwell?

**Thank you so much for all the excellent reviews for the first chapter. I'm glad you felt this worked as I was very conscious that it could have turned out horribly bad (I suppose I shouldn't speak too soon). I'm glad people felt that I kept Arthur vaguely in character despite the whole rhyming thing. I did feel that was important but actually pulling it off is challenging. **

**Thanks now to bitterbullet for reviewing seeing as I couldn't reply directly. I'm so pleased you found this funny and thought the rhyming seemed natural. It might be slightly less so in this chapter because there's quite a lot of it but I hope it doesn't seem too awkward.  
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**Anyway, here's the next part for you all. Enjoy!  
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**Part 2**

The door to the council chambers swung open dramatically. King Uther looked across from his discussion with Sir Leon to see his son enter accompanied by Gaius and the boy, Merlin. He missed the anxious exchange of glances between them as they strode across the room as well as the fact that Arthur was quite literally holding his tongue until he had to speak; the misbehaving muscle was secretly clenched between the prince's teeth.

"Ah Arthur," Uther said brightly. "Do you come bearing good news?"

"Sire, I'm afraid that something has gone slightly amiss," Gaius began.

"Amiss? In what way?" Uther asked. Gaius raised an eyebrow.

"Father, I'm afraid to say our plan's in somewhat disarray and much to my greatest dismay the sorcerer has got away."

Leon wore a puzzled expression and he wasn't the only one. Uther's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he dismissed the knight, who left the room with a respectful bow and a last fleeting look at Arthur out of curiosity.

"What's wrong with you?" Uther said. "I've no time to play this game."

"I assure you that was not my aim," replied Arthur.

"Then will someone please explain."

"We haven't been able to ascertain just why I'm speaking in this vein. Suffice to say, it is a pain."

Uther raised his hands in the air exasperatedly but upon realising he didn't know what to do now he'd got them there, he let them fall back down to his side with a sigh. He turned instead to Gaius who he could usually count on to talk sense even if he did occasionally ignore his sound advice.

"Why is he speaking..."

"In rhyme?" Gaius offered.

"It's happening all of the time," Arthur interrupted. "It's some kind of spell. Can we not dwell? Otherwise I am quite well."

"At least as far as we can tell." All eyes shot to Merlin. Arthur's were narrowed crossly. "I'm sorry, that wasn't intentional."

"I know this is quite unconventional," Arthur snapped at Merlin. "But I refuse to keep up this pretence that I don't take immense offence at mockery at my expense."

Uther found the situation was becoming too bizarre for words but he was reluctant to let it get away from him and so attempted to rein back the matter at hand.

"He's been cursed?" he questioned Gaius, trying to work things out.

"Curse is perhaps too strong a term in this case, but there's no denying he has been influenced by magic."

"So other that this..." Uther waved his hand searching for the correct phrase, "..._speech problem_, there's nothing else wrong?" he asked, seeking reassurance. "His mind's not been affected? Some underhand ploy to bring down the kingdom?"

"I don't believe so," Gaius said.

"No!" insisted Arthur, fed up with not been taken seriously.

Uther paused for a moment, trying to process this information, then turned to Arthur. He was concerned, relieved, angry with whoever had done this, but it wouldn't do to show it.

"So, you encountered a sorcerer," he stated. "Where did that sorcerer go?"

"That do not know," Arthur answered. "I was flung through the door and knocked to the floor but he fled from the shed Merlin said."

Rubbing his forehead and sitting down, Uther tried to show patience. This wasn't going to be easy. It felt very disconcerting to know that whatever he said next would no doubt become integrated into this verbal fiasco. Even so, he needed the full picture and who knew how long it might take to get this matter sorted out? He couldn't avoid speaking to his son indefinitely.

"Why don't you explain what exactly happened from the start?" he said calmly.

"Well yesterday morning we did depart. That is Merlin and I set out to spy on the outlying town of magical renown. Some of the reports were true; we saw sheep of red, purple and blue. It would seem the dyer was no liar, you should have seen the folk's attire. He is a man in great despair – unsurprising as his cupboard is bare. He's lost a great deal of trade from there.

"Anyway, we did some subtle inquiring into sorcerers' conspiring, which of course _Mer_lin found very tiring. But he was told this tale by a man called Dale – who indecently reeked of ale – about a possible mishap involving a chap in a flap near the mountain gap. Although the truth was in a lot of doubt I felt that I should check it out. So we went with intent to the place we'd been sent and spoke with another whose widowed mother though absolutely fine right now, one day last week became a sow. "

"Right," said Uther vaguely.

"Quite," replied Arthur. "Although by now we had surmised the problem was not localized, on reflection and further inspection there simply had to be a connection, so..." He was stopped by a raised hand from his father who'd had more than enough.

"Perhaps on second thoughts, given the _unusual_ situation..." Uther indicated Merlin who looked taken aback.

"I am capable of explanation!" protested Arthur.

"But you have to admit your words are distorted."

"Merlin has nothing different to be reported." He looked away, disgruntled. "Oh very well. Merlin, stop your baulking, you're going to have to do the talking."

"Are you sure?" Merlin said hesitantly.

"Just get on with it," ordered Uther.

"Erm, well," Merlin began, contemplating how long it would take to wash the rotten vegetable matter from his shirt this time.

"I'm waiting, boy."

"Yes sire. Well after that we learned about several more instances in many of the local villages. Nothing that malicious..."

"But certainly suspicious," Arthur added. "And in each case the same face had been sighted in the place."

"Arthur!" The prince fell silent under his father's gaze.

"So we managed to track him down," Merlin continued.

"And you thought it wise to confront this man alone?" said Uther in a disapproving fashion.

"I did say it was a bad idea," Merlin pointed out. Arthur stared at him, arms folded. "Well I might have suggested against..." The prince shook his head. "We both agreed..." Arthur nodded once. "We both agreed – in fact I may have been slightly over-persistent in the matter – that it would be a waste of valuable time to return to Camelot given that our chances against this very old..." – Arthur shot him another look – "...this quite old but surprisingly vigorous man were clearly in our favour."

"Evidently," Uther said dryly.

"Erm, well, we did intend on taking him by surprise but that didn't really work. He kept us at bay using magic and then cast a spell which incapacitated Prince Arthur. I tried to prevent the sorcerer's escape but..."

"He outwitted you."

"Yes, my lord."

"Hardly a great achievement."

"No, my lord. After that I went to check on Arthur and that's when he started talking like this."

"I see. This sorcerer will be found and arrested as soon as possible," Uther stated. "But not until after the talks are completed."

"Father, I will not be defeated!" Arthur exclaimed. "Besides, this is no way for Bayard to be greeted."

"I agree," said Uther. He stood up and walked thoughtfully in a circle. "Gaius, I am deeply concerned my son may not be as healthy as we first believed."

"I see," said Gaius, catching on. "I fear you may be correct."

"Hang on a minute, I object!"

"I'm no physician but perhaps he should spend the next day or so recovering in his chambers," the king said.

"And may I recommend that he be isolated," Gaius suggested, "in case his condition should prove contagious."

"This is outrageous!"

"Indeed, we wouldn't want an outbreak spreading to our visitors. Merlin, as Prince Arthur's manservant I am counting on you to ensure that your master gets complete rest."

"Oh, yes, absolutely," Merlin replied with a momentary glance at the now speechless – but fuming – Arthur.

Well, he wasn't quite speechless.

"Father, if you want me out of the way, I will gladly obey, but I would rather take the time to track the man who did this crime. While the treaty you're reviewing, who knows what this sorcerer's doing? Merlin and I could be pursuing."

"No!" Uther snapped. "Next time you will take a large group of knights. I'm not taking any chances. For all we know he might have concocted this whole scheme to lure you in for some darker purpose. You don't know how the twisted mind of a sorcerer works. This could be part of his plan."

"But I've already been in front of the man," Arthur argued, "with my last line of defence a useless servant – no offence," he nodded to Merlin. "And while the risk's not being disputed, that idea seems a little convoluted."

"I don't care my mind is made up," said Uther sharply. "From this moment onwards until King Bayard and his party leaves you are confined to your chambers."

Arthur stared disbelievingly between the three people in the room with him before storming out. Merlin ran after him.

* * *

Merlin stood against the wall of the corridor, smiling self-consciously as a passer-by gave him a probing look. He assumed a nonchalant manner until his onlooker had rounded the corner out of sight.

"Arthur," he called through the door which was closed firmly in front of him. "Arthur, I know you're there." He tried the handle for the eighth time but to no avail. He resisted the urge to use his magic to force the blasted thing open. "Come on, let me in."

"Go away, Merlin. It's wearing thin. My father made it very clear that I'm supposed to stay in here."

"It's been hours since you spoke with anyone."

"Time flies when you're having fun," Arthur snapped back bitterly.

"Fine. I'll sit out here then. And don't think I'm bringing you any meals! " he shouted through the keyhole. He pressed his eye to the slit. Arthur was sat down with his back to the door. His blond head twitched forward slightly before settling back on the backrest. "No, you just go ahead and sulk in there forever."

"Forever. Whatever," Arthur shrugged. "I absolutely guarantee, that's perfectly alright by me."

"There's no need to for you to feel like this."

"What should I be feeling? _Bliss? _Do you really want to listen to me speaking rhyme incessantly? I could keep it up all day, so I'm telling you _Mer_-lin – go away!"

"No, I won't."

"If you don't..."

"You'll rhyme me to death?"

"With my every breath," Arthur promised.

"No."

"Just go! I don't require your expertise, besides you might catch my 'disease'."

"Arthur please, I'm on my knees. I sincerely promise not to tease."

Merlin heard an exasperated exhaling of breath, the scraping of wood against the floor, a series of footsteps followed by the jangling of metal in the lock.

"You found your keys?" said Merlin cheerfully as Arthur appeared looking irritated.

"Must you go to such degrees? I bet you spent a lot of time, making up that silly rhyme."

"I did a bit."

"You utter twit." Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "You know, I think it's most unfair that you have all this time to spare. If I didn't know better I'd say you're slacking; your tidiness these days _is_ lacking. In fact this room's a perfect case. There's not a trace of space in the entire place." He indicated the mess sprawled everywhere. "It's a disgrace."

Arthur pushed Merlin off the threshold and into his chambers. "So, seeing as you're being so keen, I can find a lot for you to clean." He shut the door and walked into the middle of the room. "As soon as you're able you will muck out my stable, but firstly you can clear this... clutter," – Arthur tentatively picked an object off the table, which neither could identify – "and fix my broken window shutter."

Merlin bent down and got to work rearranging Arthur's junk under his master's scrutinizing gaze. It was true; the room really was in a state. Of course Arthur's tedium hadn't quite reached the point where he was predisposed to lending him a hand.

"We'll sort this out you know," he said reassuringly as he carefully folded a discarded jacket.

"I hope so."

"And on the bright side at least you won't have to attend another series of boring talks. Only this morning you were complaining."

"I'll admit they're not that entertaining. But if an agreement is made, it would ensure they'd aid should Cenred's men choose to invade. Twice already his army's strayed. As leader of Camelot's elite forces I should be there for the discourses. While negotiations are trying and full of belying, I cannot be denying it beats pretending to be dying."

"Hmm, Maybe it's for the best." Merlin contemplated, piling a handful of Arthur's clothes haphazardly in the corner of the room. "At least this way they won't see you're a prat."

"I could put you in the stocks for that," threatened Arthur, coming over.

"Plus you can't make me wear the hat," Merlin ventured.

Arthur grabbed him roughly and twisted his arm round behind his back in a way that was reminiscent of their very first eventful encounter.

"Don't abuse me... Ouch! You'll bruise me!... Gaius sent a note to say you must excuse me!" Merlin yelped irresistibly. Arthur clipped him around the back of the head and let him go sharply. The young man staggered ungainly. To Merlin's pleasant surprise, he turned around to find Arthur was beaming – the first time he had really smiled since the 'incident' occurred.

"I think I'll shut up now," Merlin said.

"Are you sure that you know how?" joked Arthur. "Okay, okay, I'll confess. It _could_ be considered funny, I guess," he reluctantly admitted. "So, do you think you could see your way clear to finding me some way out of here?"

"If someone sees..."

"Merlin _please_. I'm imploring. This is boring. There's nothing to do here but examine the flooring."

"Of course you're wanting to go after the sorcerer too."

"Now Merlin, that is most untrue," he replied with a telling grin.

His friend winked. "I'll see what I can do."

Arthur's smile dropped into a delayed frown as the sheepish Merlin made a swift exit.


	3. A Bizarre Plan to Sell

**A/N: The story hasn't moved as far as I'd originally intended in this chapter so there might be a couple more parts than I'd anticipated. Plus I cut this chapter short because it seemed appropriate. Unfortunately for something like this, there's only so much I can plan in advance. **

**Thank you so so much for all the reviews and the favourites etc. I never expected this story to be so popular. If you left a review I couldn't reply to directly, replies are at the end. This is not as heavy on the rhyming as the last chapter for the sake of storytelling, characters and the sanity of people who might be reading this from the start. That definitely doesn't mean it's more serious :D  
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**Enjoy!

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**Part 3**

Merlin had to admit, as ideas went this was not one of his finest – in fact it didn't even make the top ten. Still, he'd been racking his brains all night and this was the best – short of magic – that he could come up with, especially since a guard had now been posted outside Arthur's door. Apparently the king knew his son all too well. Only Merlin, Gaius (for appearance's sake) and Uther himself were permitted entry.

He gathered the necessary articles and stuffed them under his shirt, rearranging them so that hopefully any onlookers would merely think he had finally gained a bit of much-needed bulk... overnight. Maybe, that was a _little _improbable but it would have to suffice. Despite all his planning, Merlin couldn't shake the feeling that there was some minor detail in this plan he had overlooked. Oh well, it couldn't have been that important.

A quizzical eyebrow from Gaius bid him farewell as he set off towards Arthur's chambers. As he strolled innocently through the palace corridors he received several puzzled glances but fortunately no-one questioned him – that is until he rounded a corner and quite literally bumped into a familiar face. Gwen took a step back and looked up to see who she had just walked into.

"Merlin? What happened to you?" she asked, scrutinizing his appearance. Merlin quickly thought up an excuse.

"Arthur's sparring sessions. Really builds up the muscle," he said, flexing his arm which was still as skinny as ever. If that wasn't a sure sign that he was lying, the awkward grin plastered across his face was a dead give-away.

"Right," said Gwen, nodding sceptically, eyebrows raised. "How is Arthur?" she asked, sounding concerned. "I heard he was too ill to attend the talks today."

"He's complaining, so that's a good sign. He'll be perfectly alright," Merlin assured her, "although his condition is a little _unusual_."

"Oh, how so? Gwen frowned.

"Ah, erm... spots," answered Merlin quickly. "Big, disgusting, pus-filled spots all over his face, and his arms, and his– well you get the picture. It's quite horrible to tell you the truth. Oh, I'm sure they'll clear up," he hastily added, upon catching Gwen's worried expression, "but it's probably best he stays isolated for the time being, especially if we have guests."

"I imagine he's pleased about that. Are you going to see him now? If he's feeling his usual self, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd asked you to break him out of his chambers or something."

"Haha! That's just silly," Merlin laughed pathetically.

"Merlin, you've just gained twenty pounds," Gwen noted.

"Sorry?" Merlin looked puzzled. "Oh!" he exclaimed glancing down at his oversized belly and rearranging the offending items which had slipped beneath his shirt. "Thanks."

"Arthur's sparring sessions not all they're cracked up to be?"

"No, apparently not."

"Anyway, I really need to be going. Tell him I hope he gets better soon."

"I'll do that."

"And good luck Merlin."

"With what?"

"Taking care of Arthur. I know he can be challenging at times," Gwen replied with a knowing smile. "Be careful." She departed down the corridor shaking her head.

"Don't worry," Merlin called after her. "I know exactly how to handle Arthur."

* * *

"Mer-lin!" Arthur yelled as a raven-haired head emerged round the door with a brief nervous glance back behind him at the guard who was stood outside. "I know your punctuality is hit-and-miss but what time do you call this. I'll die of boredom at this rate. Why are you so late?"

"If you must know," Merlin answered, pushing shut the doors behind him to avoid being overheard, "I've been strategising." Arthur huffed a laugh.

"So what is this _great plan _you've been devising?"

Merlin stood in front of Arthur, arms outstretched wide in indication and glanced down at himself.

Arthur regarded Merlin from top to toe in all his abnormally bulgy glory.

"That's not another rope up those clothes, I suppose? Because if you're angling for me to do more dangling – forget it! You'll regret it! It's hardly my favourite pastime after last time. You let me fall from the wall you'll recall, I am sure. Thanks to I can still taste that pile of manure." Grabbing Merlin by the shoulder, he escorted him to the window. "I daresay it may have worked before but aside from the guard outside my door, I'll have you know, there are two more below." There were indeed two more guards stationed directly beneath them. "Now how am I supposed to go?"

Merlin stepped away from the window and started removing his jacket before passing it to Arthur. Arthur stared in bewilderment at his servant who appeared to be undressing in front of him. It was a few seconds before Arthur realised he was still holding Merlin's jacket and he tossed the garment carelessly to one side. He was a prince, for goodness sake. Merlin was supposed to wait on _him_.

"Hey!" Merlin said, one hand outstretched in protest and the other rummaging up his shirt.

Arthur was annoyed and confused. How was this supposed to help him? He resumed watching Merlin, impatiently and expectantly, arms folded.

Finally, Merlin seemed satisfied and proudly produced another set of clothing almost identical to his own. In fact it had, until just recently, been lovingly screwed up at the foot of Merlin's bed with the rest of his meagre 'wardrobe'.

"Ta-da!" he exclaimed.

"Ah," said Arthur still sure what to make of this, although he was relieved that Merlin was still clothed. "Well that's... unexpected. I take it this is in _someway_ connected, or has my situation been neglected?"

"This is your disguise," explained Merlin, slightly put out.

"Disguise? As you, I surmise?"

"Yes, as me."

"I _see_," said Arthur, far from convinced. "This is by far the worst plan ever devised. Thinking, for you, is ill-advised. Are you out of your mind? The guard's not blind!"

"It _might_ work." Merlin tossed him his spare shirt. "Here try this on for size."

"I do have eyes! This isn't a game. No-one could claim we look the slightest bit the same. Since I'm the prince, this won't convince. Everybody knows my face and even if that were not the case, at the least my hair's a different colour and my physique is much, much fuller. I'm quite brawny whereas you're just... _scrawny_. Not even the most stupid man can be taken in by this idiotic plan."

"If you've a better thought."

"Perhaps one where I don't get caught?" Arthur suggested.

"You know, Sire, you're right," said Merlin, reclaiming his clothing from Arthur and draping it over his arm. "It was a stupid suggestion and obviously you're not willing to take that risk. It's perfectly understandable. I suppose you'll just have to wait a few more days then, and I'm sure you'll get used to talking like this... eventually. I'll just take these things back." He turned to leave. "Have fun staying here."

"Okay," Arthur sighed in defeat , "but I've made it pretty clear I don't approve of this idea." He snatched back Merlin's shirt and disappeared behind a screen, fully aware he'd just been manipulated. "The fact I'm doing this is beyond belief," he muttered to himself. "Merlin pass me your neckerchief!"

A minute of disgruntled rhyming later, Arthur emerged wearing a rough blue shirt and simple brown trousers, although judging by his expression he could have been modelling one of Morgana's dresses. He picked up Merlin's jacket from the floor and put it on before examining himself in a mirror. His mouth curled dubiously.

Merlin came over and rearranged the scarf around his neck which was tied at a peculiar angle.

"There," Merlin said with a suppressed snigger. "You look alright."

"It's far too tight," Arthur complained, fidgeting awkwardly. "And I'm still convinced that you've got fleas." He lifted his leg. "What are these? There's holes in the knees," he gestured. "And of course, none of this changes the fact that my original appearance is still intact," he exclaimed, pointing to his face in wide-eyed desperation.

'_Don't tempt me,_' thought Merlin as he walked over the corner of Arthur's room to add the finishing touches to his escape plan.

"Do you want me to wear a bag on my head? The sheets off my bed?... Or I suppose a helmet would do instead," he said as he caught the one Merlin had unexpectedly tossed in his direction. He looked between his metal headgear and his new apparel. "Tell me are you actually serious or simply delirious? You don't think this get-up is somewhat mysterious?"

"How else are you supposed to carry it when you've got your hands full?" Arthur's forehead creased into a puzzled frown until Merlin came over laden down with the rest of Arthur's armour. "Actually, if you really _did _want to clean it for appearance's sake–"

"One more word would be a mistake," Arthur warned, as Merlin piled the armour into his outstretched arms with a clatter. "I don't mind admitting that time permitting I'd prefer to be flitting in a manner more befitting. So long as we're indeed agreed, if this plan does not succeed, it's all your fault. I look a dolt."

His servant gave him a questioning look. "I thought that was the general idea?"

Arthur considered Merlin and found he couldn't argue with that. This was especially true when a thought occurred to him.

"There may be truth in that I fear. Whilst concocting this plan most rotten, perhaps there's one thing you've forgotten. I will leave here dressed as you, then what are you going to do? To be precise, you can't leave twice." Arthur smiled to himself as Merlin's face dropped. "I appreciate this sacrifice," he said with forced seriousness.

Merlin silently reprimanded himself for having overlooked such an obvious problem. "I'll think of something," he told him confidently. He had a talent for distractions, after all. "There's cloak under all that somewhere," he continued as he tugged Arthur's helmet out from where he'd buried it and the prince struggled to maintain a handhold on the remaining baggage. "I'll meet you by the stables. Things are pretty hectic this morning so you should be able to move around without being noticed once you've managed to leave the palace."

Arthur was about to remind Merlin just exactly who ordered who when he felt the cold brush of metal against his cheek and he winced as Merlin tapped him jovially on the head sending a loud rattling to his ears.

He took a deep breath and stood with apprehension behind the door.

"Now Merlin, stop your whining!" he said loudly. "I want to see that armour shining!" He faked an attack of coughing for good measure. "And I don't intend to wait till June so get it done by this afternoon!"

"Of course, Sire," Merlin played along. Arthur motioned exasperatedly with his eyes for Merlin to open the door for him. "Oh." He complied making sure he was hidden as he did.

Arthur staggered out of the doorway, tripping slightly as he crossed the threshold. If anyone asked he would claim it was purely authenticity but secretly he blamed the outfit. He avoided looking behind him until he had turned the corner. It had worked. It had actually worked! He made a mental note not to put that particular guard in charge of any dangerous prisoners in future. Now all he needed to do was find somewhere to unload his armour and wait to see if Merlin would actually turn up.

* * *

Merlin closed the door behind his impostor and turned to face the room, examining his surroundings. So far so good... Now what?

* * *

**Review Replies:**

**Please note, my internet has crashed a couple of times when I've hit the reply button. If you left a signed review and haven't received a reply then I'm very sorry and thank you very much now!**

_**Dee: **_Thank you very much! I'm so pleased you're having fun reading this. It's certainly a lot of fun to write, if a little time consuming. I couldn't resist having Merlin teasing Arthur a bit… well, a lot. It means a lot to me that you thought it was entertaining in an intelligent way. I'm glad that people appreciate it's quite tricky to come up some of the dialogue in places.

_**(anon): **_Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you found this funny. I'm sorry you found the rhyming too much in places but on the other hand, that is the point and premise of the fic, especially in the last chapter where the focus was on people's reactions and there was a need for it to be a little OTT. I tried to get the balance right but I can't ignore my own rules when it comes to Arthur's dialogue.

_**Jess from Australia: **_Thank you so much! I'm glad you're finding this amusing. It's very fun to write too, I love trying to find words that fit with the rhyming and the story.


	4. Farewell & Bluebell

_A/N: Thank you very much for all the reviews, alerts and favourites and sorry for the delay! To those of you who HAD to ask what happens if someone says something which doesn't have a rhyme :D and to the rest of you (who must have let it cross your mind), I've decided that I will bring it up later and I know how I'm going to do it. There's actually a lot of words which don't have **perfect** rhymes, although I admit I have slipped a few imperfect ones into my story here and there. Oops!_

_It's just occurred to me that some of my review replies could have inadvertently been interpreted as a bit smart alecky and I want to assure people that I was just trying to spread the useless trivia around. To a similar end, with regards the 'fruit whose rhyme is moot' (Nightmare-Naka), there's one instance where that logic fails. That's 'Blorenge', a mountain in Monmouthshire, Wales. _

_Thanks now to Me12345, tn09 and anyone I may have accidentally missed for your anonymous reviews which I couldn't reply to personally._

**Enjoy!****

* * *

**

**Part 4**

Arthur was amazed at how easy it was to move around the castle unnoticed once he had overcome the challenge of leaving his room. The people of Camelot really were an unobservant bunch. He would have thought that someone cautiously creeping around hooded and cloaked _indoors_ might have looked a little bit suspicious, but he had discovered that unless you were recognisably of noble blood, strutting around as if you owned the place, then nobody paid you a second glance – or even a first one for that matter. This was slightly irritating but very handy nonetheless. He kept his head down, maintaining his anonymous persona. It was a busy morning and the hustle and bustle as servants hurried about carrying food and clothes and cleaning paraphernalia was both a blessing and a curse. It ruled out exiting via one of the secret passageways without drawing unwanted attention from one of the many passers by, but so long as he appeared ordinary, he could simply walk out of the castle unhindered.

As he rounded a corner, the door to the courtyard loomed into view. He felt slightly guilty for having left Merlin trapped in his chambers, but in a way it served him right. Who else could have come up with such a ridiculous plan in the first place? '_Idiot!_' he thought, as he ripped off Merlin's blasted scarf, which was itching something terrible, and tucked it into his belt. Merlin had found yet another way to irritate him and he wasn't even here. Arthur carried on walking. Still, if Merlin didn't turn up as arranged, how in the world was he supposed to break _him _out. Whilst Arthur couldn't deny that some peace and quiet given his current infuriating impediment might be preferable to Merlin's inane chatter and his own inevitable mangled responses, he would never seriously entertain the idea of leaving him stuck like that, alone and feeling sorry for himself. If that wasn't enough, Merlin would surely take blame for his absence if left behind. Besides, how utterly boring would this quest be alone?

* * *

Merlin pelted down the palace corridors, narrowly avoiding several collisions before skidding to a halt with the realisation that excessive haste was probably not in his best interest. He resumed a brisk but slower pace. Although the sooner they were out of the city the better, he wanted to keep explanations to a head preserving minimum. Perhaps he should have waited a while before making a break for it; his punctuality would certainly look suspicious under the circumstances. Never mind, it was too late now and the longer he took to meet with Arthur, the greater their chances of being caught. He was almost at the palace's main entrance when he caught sight of the back of a familiar figure.

The cloaked man tensed slightly as Merlin's footsteps approached him from behind and his hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Arthur spun around, obviously wondering how he was going to articulate a decent story and then he jumped, eyes widening in surprise as they met with his servant's.

As the noise of more people approaching echoed towards them, Merlin found himself being ushered into an empty side room – actually little more than a cupboard, and one that the cleaners didn't frequent very often judging by cobwebs, which were parallel in their abundance to the palace's dishevelled library. Tiny as the space was, there was a small leaded window and this overlooked the main courtyard outside where a crowd was gradually assembling. Arthur closed the door behind the both of them.

"Merlin! That was quick, I have to say. Just how _did_ you get away?"

ooo

_After mulling over the possibilities available to him, Merlin hovered nervously behind the door of Arthur's chambers, which was certainly a better option than the window. Now was as good a time as any._

"_**Ic foreléore þé ungesewenan"**_

_As far as appearances were concerned nothing changed. Merlin didn't doubt his magic but he would have felt a lot more confident if he could have tested his spell first; he'd never tried this before – which, come to think of it, was actually quite strange given the number of times he'd had to sneak past people; it was almost a hobby. 'Oh well,' he thought, 'it's now or never'. Conscious of the fact that this could turn into a hideous embarrassment, he opened the door a fraction and poked his head through the gap. Turning to his left he saw the guard stood to attention next to him but paying him no attention That was a relief. As he understood things, he wasn't invisible as such – that was exceedingly complicated magic – but the young soldier wouldn't notice him, or his actions, as he passed by. He loved magic._

_Casually he stepped outside, taking care to shut the doors properly behind him. He took one more look at the guard, waving his palm in front of his face with a self assured grin, and then strode off down the corridor, no-one any the wiser._

ooo_  
_

"That's not important," Merlin said. He received the most incredulous of looks from the plainly clothed prince. "I created a distraction and I got lucky."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Well aren't _we_ plucky? Not meaning to detract from your diversionary act, but if you could escape with such great ease, what am I doing wearing these?" He fingered his new attire in discomfort.

"Trust me, it wouldn't have worked before."

"Okay, okay, say no more. But when you slipped past the guard my cover wasn't marred? He is still standing on the landing? It must be emphasised, if he knows his attention was compromised I estimate he'd investigate – I'm sure I don't need to elucidate. He must not see that I'm an absentee, at least till we've had chance to flee.

"No-one has the slightest clue," Merlin assured him.

"I never doubted you'd come through." Arthur slapped him on the back.

"So why aren't you where we arranged to meet?" asked Merlin.

"It took time to drop my armour someplace discrete."

"Where did you put it in the end?"

"Somewhere it would tend to blend. For minimal adverse consequence, the armoury made the greatest. . . sense." Arthur looked up, distracted.

"What's wrong?" Merlin inquired.

"A large throng. Out there, in the square," he said. Arthur squeezed past Merlin and over to the window. "What? Surely not!" Merlin gave him a questioning frown over his shoulder. "Bayard is in the yard," Arthur explained.

"I thought you said he wasn't due until noon."

"I don't know why he's here so soon. Evidently there's been an alteration to expectation and I wasn't privy to that information. He's brought with him quite a congregation. Well. . . this could cause a complication."

Indeed it could. The two pairs of eyes watched riveted to the scene in front of them. The tramp of hurried feet could be heard from the other side of the small wooden door of the room they were in and moments later Uther was seen to emerge into the courtyard outside in full Pendragon regalia and accompanied by a small entourage. The two kings clasped hands in friendly greeting. Merlin sighed heavily, his breath steaming up the window-pane his nose was pressed against. He leant backwards leaving a small round imprint on the glass.

"Now we'll never sneak out that way."

"Have you _practised_ noting the obvious today?"

"Well, the talent for sarcasm you've perfected appears still to be unaffected," Merlin muttered with a quick glance at Arthur's thoroughly unimpressed reaction. "They can't stay out there forever," he continued. "We should probably just wait."

"That's something I'm most willing to contemplate, but it may already be too late. I'll never reach the main gate at this rate." Arthur groaned, common sense catching up with his desperate desire to sort this mess out. "This was a bad decision. I'm so desperate to escape derision, I'm seeing things with tunnel vision. This initial greeting will only be fleeting and I assume my father will then check my room. When he finds it unoccupied, tightened security will be applied. There's no way then we won't be spied. I risk ruination of the whole negotiation, all because of my petty frustration."

"If you ask me – and you probably wouldn't – I think you're doing the right thing," said Merlin.

"If it's pointless reassurance you're trying to bring. . ."

"The king is already lying to Bayard to cover your. . . predicament," Merlin pointed out. "Whatever damage that may cause is surely done. You've been in worse situations than this. Sneaking out of a castle – that's an _easy_ task!"

Arthur frowned in puzzlement.

"Merlin, I can't help but ask; what's happened to your usual interjection of objection?"

"Bryce is much less likely to cooperate being dragged off by a small army, which is sure to happen if Uther gets his way," explained Merlin. "If he turns nasty he's probably capable of much more than affecting speech and I certainly don't fancy having to explain things if you – I don't know – say, get turned into a shrew." The sudden astounded expression Arthur wore spoke volumes. "I'm not saying that's _bound_ to happen. After all, there are plenty of other animals that he could– I should get to the point?" Arthur nodded dangerously. "The two of us stand a much better chance of sorting this out alone in a more. . . _diplomatic_ manner."

"Since when were you a planner?"

"You want to be rid of this as soon as possible, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Arthur sighed, "but I'm not sure that you've thought this through. Assuming we leave, Merlin, and this is solved, it shan't be absolved that you were involved. I'll smooth things over best I can, but father's not an easy man."

"Thanks," Merlin said, "but it doesn't matter. I don't care."

"It's unfair."

"I don't care!" Merlin reiterated. Arthur smiled and thumped Merlin's arm in acknowledgement.

"Right then, let's prepare to go and find this Bryce's lair. Someway, somehow, we must leave now."

They both peered outside again. Uther was introducing Sir Leon as a representative of Camelot's army in Arthur's absence. This was primarily a military alliance they were attempting to negotiate, after all.

"I say we hide inside here, at least until the coast is clear. Then there'll be little time to spare until my father is aware that my room is now deserted and he ensures the guards are discretely alerted. So, that is when we'll make our break – _hopefully_ without mistake – before he has a chance to see he in, in fact, now missing me."

Merlin and Arthur didn't have long to wait before Uther, Bayard and the rest left the courtyard and made their way indoors. They delayed for an additional minute or so for safety, with their ears pressed to the inside of the door, before exiting. As they did so – and as Arthur was carefully rearranging his attire and checking that the sword he had been sure to pick up earlier was thoroughly concealed beneath his outer garment – they encountered a male servant from Bayard's party belatedly entering from outside. He suspiciously regarded the two young men leaving the tiny space together from out of the corner of his eye as he passed by them with an ill-concealed smirk.

Curious.

"You don't think he. . ." Arthur pointed, ". . . thought that we. . .?" he suggested with unease, pulling his cloak around him. The pair looked into each other's eyes nervously before taking a simultaneous step backwards from one another.

"At least it doesn't seem like he recognised you," said Merlin positively.

"_Please_, let's just leave without further ado."

* * *

Uther was fuming.

"You were charged with ensuring no-one entered or left this room without permission. He can't have disappeared!" Uther raged. "What do you have to say for yourself."

"My lord king," the guard began to try and explain that he could not explain, "I have been stood here since relieving the previous man at first light. I have seen but one person enter and then leave again and that was Prince Arthur's manservant."

Uther sighed, seething quietly. He bent forward, leaning both his hands on the table in Arthur's empty chambers and attempted to regain a cool head.

"Spread the word around," he spoke grimly to the table top. "Extra guards are to be posted on the main gate. I want everyone passing through stopped. Also riders are to be sent out discreetly to search. It is important that word of what has happened here remains quiet. It must not reach Lord Bayard's ears. We cannot show weakness."

"Understood, your highness," the soldier replied, bowing as he left the king's presence.

Uther wandered across the room sank onto the end Arthur's bed staring out into the vacant chambers at nothing in particular. He should not leap to conclusions but he could not see how Arthur could have left his room totally unobserved, and he was already the victim of sorcery after all.

"Ah Gaius," Uther mumbled as the physician arrived and hovered in the doorway. "Come in."

"You sent for me?"

"I should not have been so complacent."

"Sire?" Gaius frowned.

"Every day Cenred's army grows stronger. As much as I loath reliance on other kingdoms, this alliance could ensure the safety of Camelot. Cenred would not dare attack the forces of Camelot and Mercia combined, we could prevent a war before it starts."

"A wise decision," Gaius agreed, although he was unsure how this bore relevance.

"But in focusing on these negotiations, I underestimated the more formidable foe that is magic, and now I fear it has stolen my son from me."

"Ahh, I see," Gaius realised, keeping a calm, reassuring demeanour. "I understand your thinking, but I do not share it. We have no reason at this stage to suspect sorcery."

"It is surely the cause of his disappearance," Uther maintained.

"I am forced to disagree. Occasionally," – _'Although rarely,'_ – "the non-magical conclusion is indeed the correct one."

"Explain."

"Sire, it would seem Merlin is missing also." He neglected to mention the clearly odd manner of his departure. "Under these circumstances it seems likely that they left together. I believe Arthur has probably gone against your wishes and decided to track down the sorcerer responsible for his condition by himself. He is, after all, very resourceful."

"You have proof?"

"No sire, but nor do I have proof to the contrary. You do, however, know Arthur, that is why you had his room guarded as I recall." Uther let out a breath of exasperation mixed with relief as sense caught up with him. "Also I see no sign of a struggle," Gaius added.

"You are probably right as you usually are," Uther said. "My son is too reckless by half."

"A trait you shared once upon a time as I remember."

"This disobedience will be his undoing! If he is to become king he must learn to be less impulsive. He needs to hold his own safety in more regard!"

"He needs to learn," Gaius agreed and the only way he can do that is through his own experience. Arthur is a most competent warrior. I am certain all will be well."

There was a pause for thought.

"Absolutely!" Uther stated, standing up quicklly. "It is unseemly for me to brood in here when I have important business to attend to." He heaved a sigh in the direction of the window which was still closed and latched inside – untouched. "Once again Gaius, I value your council." The king made briskly to leave, but his brash exterior didn't prevent his stomach churning . _'Pray you stay safe, Arthur,'_ Uther thought fondly, before departing.

* * *

Merlin and Arthur ambled through the woodland which surrounded Camelot, following the route of the previous day. Spring sunshine cast its dappled light through the bright green canopy and onto the bluebell strewn forest floor. Hopefully they would find some sort of clue which would lead them to the trickster, Bryce. Otherwise they were in a sticky situation. They had departed on foot, but they had left the city and that was the main thing. Arthur was aware that he would have to be on the alert for mounted search parties, which would surely be sent after him, but thankfully they had encountered nothing so far.

Merlin was eager to engage the prince in conversation, but Arthur was much happier in relative quiet where he had full control over his own thoughts, which is more than could be said for his words. He was coming across as particularly short-tempered because of this.

"You'll _never_ cheer up with this attitude," Merlin pointed out.

"It might sound rude, but I'm not in the mood for another rhyming interlude."

"Have you thought any more about what I said?

Arthur let out a huffed laugh.

"One sound suggestion and it's gone to your head. Your last plan succeeded by sheer luck, we're fortunate that good chance struck."

"If one day," Merlin remarked dreamily, "you could just say thanks?"

"Can I help that you're thick as two short planks?"Arthur joked. "I'll try and buy this bout of genius occurring. To what words of wisdom are you referring?"

"Assuming we find Bryce, what approach are you going to take?"

"The one that I'm forced to make. Regardless of what he did to me – which is malevolent, you must agree – he's turning people into swine and I can't pretend that that's just fine."

"She'd called a neighbour a 'pig'," Merlin noted, "so maybe Bryce felt it was deserved."

"I _have_ to ensure justice is served. If that means arresting him, I refuse to back down on a whim. To do so would be remiss and I cannot – will not – dismiss this."

"You may have no choice in the matter."

"Your confidence in me never fails to flatter."

The two of them continued to scan the surrounding area, looking for something out of the ordinary, one of Bryce's trademark discrepancies from the norm that might point them in the right direction; anything from the most subtle traces of magic to low-flying badgers. It was bound to be difficult. If Bryce didn't want to be found, he surely wouldn't have signposted a route for them to follow. That would be–

_Unbelievable_

The two young men stood dead in their tracks.

"This isn't _quite_ as I projected. It looks to me like we're expected."

Directly ahead of them a sea of bluebells wafted in the breeze as lavender-coloured waves. Except, there was a blot on this otherwise tranquil scene – a strikingly garish purple blot, which stood out clearly from the subtle blue shades in its background and which resembled, quite distinctly, an arrow veering off slightly to the left.

"He's certainly creative for an old man," Merlin said, mildly impressed.

"But what could be his plan? Is he encouraging my pursuit, or leading us on an erroneous route?" Arthur's forehead creased in confusion as he bent down to examine the situation. "If you had those kind of powers, would you use them to recolour flowers?"

"Flowers, sheep – maybe he finds it amusing?"

"It's not the typical magic you catch sorcerers using."

_'And you know all about magic, do you?'_ thought Merlin.

"Well, they do look quite nice purple," Merlin said. He turned to Arthur anticipating a response. None came. Instead he was crouched next to him in complete silence, a sour expression on his face as if waiting impatiently for something. His lips were pursed and involuntarily twitching. Was something wrong? Had the spell on Arthur somehow worsened? If only he knew how to reverse it himself. "Arthur? Arthur? That was a mindless comment and you're not mocking me. Is everything okay?"

"What did you expect me to say?" Arthur retorted tetchily, yet with undertones of relief. "What rhymes with purple but hirple and curple? Nonsense prevention may have escaped your attention but a horse's rear is hardly relevant I fear. I'd prefer to steer clear of phrases odd on the ear." Merlin sniggered at the irony, and Arthur sighed. "Relatively speaking," he added, knowing full well that everything he said now was 'odd'. "I'd rather minimise the verbal havoc I'm wreaking."

"Oh, I didn't think. Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"Never mind that, let's find our quarry."

"I suppose there's a few words that would be difficult in your condition."

"Can we keep those an omission?" Arthur ordered under a poorly applied guise of suggestion.

"Does it happen a lot?" asked Merlin.

"Surprisingly not," Arthur answered.

"That's good," Merlin acknowledged. "Wait a minute, you're not just saying that because of the rhyming?"

"Look, I haven't yet resorted to miming. I think it's pretty safe to say our sorcerer has been this way so unless you'd rather stay, I'd like to catch this man today."

"So which route do you think we should take?"

"There's a strong chance that they're fake, but in the absence of any better selections, I propose to follow the directions. Leftward bound he shall be found," Arthur stated with leader's confidence, striding out purposefully in that direction with Merlin trotting along behind.


	5. From the Dell to Where Sorcerers Dwell

**Hello folks. I'm back with a new chapter. Actually it's only part of my intended chapter, because it was ending up _unbelievably_ long so I had to split it. I know I haven't stuck to 'perfect' rhymes, but for part of this chapter I'm relying on them (or rather a lack of them). Just go along with it please ;)**

**I can't believe all the amazing feedback I've had so thank you all so so much, especially anyone who reviewed and I couldn't reply to. You're all amazing! :D**

**There's a slight serious undertone creeping in, to facilitate the plot, but hopefully it'll work. I've written the last two chapters already and there's still humour to come.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_(Much trudging later)_

Arthur and Merlin continued to follow the trail of abnormalities that Bryce had left for them. For the last couple of miles or so, they had been following discoloured flowers, malformed trees and a strangely anthropomorphic hare. The latter was against Arthur's better judgement but Merlin had pointed out, as Arthur had done earlier, that they had nothing better to go on. Fortunately for all concerned, that particular animal had now vanished, and Arthur was confident that if he'd had his crossbow about his person, it would have been dispatched a whole lot sooner.

Now the two of them were separately foraging in the immediate area of a small wooded valley for anything resembling the next clue. Arthur overturned a rotting log with his foot, but it revealed nothing more than detritus, a colony of woodlice, and other assorted creepy-crawlies. Nothing was out of the ordinary there. He casually flicked a spindle-legged spider off the tip of his boot. This was getting silly. He wasn't sure how he managed to get himself into these scenarios, but he persevered. It would have helped if he had known what he was looking for though.

"He could have written us directions in plain text. What's next?" Turn right at the pig in flight?" Arthur grumbled to himself, not realising he was still within earshot.

Distracted by his complaining, Merlin looked up through the gaps in the treetops as a large grey bird with impeccable timing soared high overhead.

"That's a goose," Merlin observed cheekily.

"Don't be obtuse!"

They continued to search. A short while later, A bush with Merlin's voice called out to him.

"Arthur! I think I've found something! Over here."

Arthur hurried over, brushing aside the foliage to reveal his servant's hindquarters.

"Your rear?" he queried lightly.

Merlin's head emerged, grubby-looking and dishevelled, from a spot where the grass and shrubbery disappeared and a long dark hidden tunnel burrowed down into the ground.

"Oh yes, Merlin, very droll. Your little stroll has produced. . . a hole. Do I look like a mole?"

But Arthur knew, even without the scrawl that scribed itself mockingly in the dirt by his feet indicating "**this is the way**" in an ironic answer to his earlier ramblings, that this was indeed the route he must take. Add to that, the fact that Merlin had already taken the very inappropriate and frustrating initiative to vanish, ferret-like, and he really had no choice.

Determined to get to the bottom of this and fix his problem once and for all, he crouched down and clambered into the hole on all fours, head-first. It was just large enough for a fully-grown man to crawl through, but it was a tight fit. The hilt of his sword dug into him and the shirt he was wearing tore on a stone protruding from the earth. The shirt didn't matter; it was Merlin's after all and Merlin could mend it.

Scrambling onwards, he finally caught up with a pair of feet, when they found themselves thrust into his mouth in a most ungainly fashion. Arthur coughed up a mouthful of dirt.

"It crossed my mind that in a space so confined, it would have been better for you to go behind," he spluttered.

"Frightened you'll need a push if the tunnel gets too narrow," came Merlin's muffled voice.

"Not all of us are built like an ill-fed sparrow," Arthur jibed. "But what you seem to have failed to comprehend is what could be waiting for us at the other end. When it comes to fighting skill, your abilities amount to nil."

In the dim, fading light from the tunnel entrance Arthur saw the dark shape of Merlin's shoulder's twitch, to give the closest approximation possible in these cramped conditions, of what was presumably intended to be a shrug.

"Funny. The way I remember it, your skills didn't count for very much the last time," Merlin said. "You want my advice?"

"No, that will suffice."

"Your surly, burly and sword twirly brand of tact may not be the best approach."

"Any _more_ words of reproach? My negotiation skills are first-rate, yours I expect are far from great. He's a sorcerer so you can't relate. To him you're little more than bait."

"I didn't know you cared?"

"Then your judgement is impaired. Clearly. And if you make me say this again, you'll be punished severely. You may be unskilled and far too strong-willed, but your role is not one easily re-filled and I'd be less than thrilled if you get yourself killed."

"Thank you for the sentiment," said Merlin sincerely, "but if he was a killer he would have done it by now."

"His sorcery is something I can't allow," Arthur reiterated, but was mostly for his own benefit. What if he was forced to? Arthur thought deeply for a moment, weighing his options and his mixed feelings towards magic as he shuffled along in the darkness. "I'm willing to adopt a flexible stance. He gets ONE chance," He decided aloud. "If that's not enough, then I'll be forced to get tough. That's more than fair." The back of Merlin's head nodded in accord. "But I still think you should beware," he added.

Arthur huffed and fidgeted slightly. "Sorcerer or not out there, I'll be glad of the fresh air," he said as his head bumped suddenly into Merlin's backside. His companion had unexpectedly ground to a halt and he remained stationary for quite some time. "Any reason for your unwillingness to move, because I'm forced to disapprove?"

Merlin made a strangely distorted moaning sound, let out a sigh, then gave up.

"Erm, I don't suppose you remember what I was saying about _you _getting stuck," Merlin said nervously.

There was one thing Arthur could utter in a situation like this, but he refrained from doing so. Such language was inappropriate for a knight, not to mention a prince. More importantly though, Merlin had sharply booted him in the chin in another effort to free himself, so besides an incoherent grunt, any uncouth exclamations were out of the question.

"Just. . . my. . . luck!" He mumbled, rotating his bruised jaw. "In a hole, completely stuck, trapped with you and covered in muck."

"If I can just. . . twist myself. . . a bit. . . I _think_ I can. . . work myself free," said Merlin. "You should be careful though, sire. It tightens quite. . . a lot."

"It's the only route I've got," Arthur observed; reversing wasn't very feasible and he refused to go back the way he'd come anyway. Merlin drew an intake of breath to speak but Arthur interrupted him. "And don't you dare say I'm 'fat' because I won't stand for that."

"You _are_ larger than me," groaned Merlin whilst trying to force his way through the tunnel.

"All right, all right, I agree. You're taller but smaller," sighed Arthur. "I've heard your cautions, I'll take precautions. You're blowing this out of all proportions. Just get on with your contortions. I'm sick of this view of your lower portions."

"You're doing this on purpose now, aren't you?" Merlin's strained voice teased him. "Trying to see how many rhymes you can cram?"

"Maybe I am," he said deviously, but with only a hint of truth. "I'm barely coping but there's no use moping. If I have to put up with this diction affliction, then it's my view you should suffer too. You're skinny so this should be a breeze. You can fit through with ease so just squeeze. _Please_.

"Ahead, I think I can see daylight," said Merlin.

"I think you're right. That would imply this tunnel's end is nigh. But stop digressing, how are you progressing?"

"I think I've managed it. Just one. . . more. . . push." Merlin forced his way forward. "Aha!" Merlin exclaimed triumphantly, but Arthur was less happy, as a cloud of dislodged earth rained heavily down upon him and his view of Merlin disappeared. He choked on the falling dirt which had suddenly enveloped him and he was just about to cough something about how such a moronic action would result in Merlin being the stocks' newest attraction, when a rock struck him squarely on the back of his head.

For the umpteenth time – he'd long since lostcount and he worried for his cranium – Arthur's vision began to blur. He was very grateful of his thoughts' lack of restrictions at that particular moment; as the word spun around him, the entirety of his feelings towards Merlin expressed themselves in a tirade of unparalleled eloquence. Then everything went black.

* * *

"Arthur!" Merlin coughed once the dust had settled. "Arthur?"

He struggled to twist his head backwards. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Arthur slumped out cold behind him. _Oops!_

Merlin was torn what to do next. He didn't feel comfortable leaving Arthur like this but neither could he easily carry him – not in this position. He shuffled forward a few feet in the direction of sunlight's pale glow then, with a golden flash, Arthur was roughly pulled along behind him by unseen hands. He continued like this for a short way – crawl, crawl, magical tug, crawl, crawl, magical tug. Merlin didn't have a clue where they going to end up; his sense of direction wasn't great at the best of times. He did notice that the tunnel was becoming more rocky under hand and knee, or in Arthur's case, his chin. Merlin winced to himself. The unconscious-prone prince was definitely going to be sore when he woke up.

"Whilst we're still young!" An elderly male voice echoed from the tunnel's end towards him taking Merlin by surprise. It was Bryce. Merlin glanced back at Arthur. "Oh, just leave him. I expect he'll wake up soon enough."

"What do you want?" Merlin shouted back.

"I know you're not scared of me, so why don't you come out of that hole and find out?"

Reluctantly, Merlin scrambled out of the tunnel. He squinted against the sunlight which revealed his unexpected surroundings. It appeared to be an old quarry, though long abandoned judging by the low-lying vegetation which was poking its way out of the rubble. Bushes had replaced the trees of the woodland and there was a small brown pool of water nearby. The tunnel had emerged at the foot of a rock-face, now quite weathered. Merlin knew of no such place within a day's walk of Camelot and certainly not within half-a-day's crawl.

"How did we get here?" Merlin asked.

"Old gnome hole," Bryce answered, matter-of-factly. "Not the most comfortable means of travel but pretty efficient. I've never liked transportation spells since I ended up waist deep in a bog, somewhere in the North Pennines. Newfangled nonsense anyway – what's wrong with feet?"

"There are _gnomes_ around here?" said Merlin.

"Not now, not in decades. Wouldn't find me here if there was. I value my ankles. But I needed somewhere to go."

"Why did you put that spell on Arthur?" Merlin demanded, returning to the point.

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. Would you rather me have killed him, maimed him, cursed him with a plague of unsightly boils?" Bryce leaned forward as he spoke, his weight supported by a gnarled wooden staff he was gripping tightly with two hands. His long, thinning hair hung limply, framing both sets of bony fingers. He appeared a lot frailer, a lot more in-keeping with his age, than he had done on their previous encounter.

"Of course not." Merlin frowned at the wizened old figure. "Why did you lead us here?"

"I clean up my own mess, when I feel inclined to do so."

"Then do it now and leave."

"Prince Arthur has a tongue in his head, let him ask me himself," Bryce said, smiling at Merlin's impetuousness – his grin lacking several teeth. "His distrust of magic is the problem."

"Why should he trust you? Magic should be used for better things than payback and cruel jokes."

"A poor reputation is preferable to leaving behind no reputation at all."

"If you hurt Arthur–!" Merlin warned.

"I give you my word I will not. But whether or not I lift the magic upon him is up to him. And I'm sorry about this, but I wish to pass judgement on the prince myself."

"You're sorry about what?" asked Merlin with a wary sense of confusion.

"_**W**__**yrttruman gebind hine!" **_Bryce ordered.

"What are you–?" Merlin took a defensive step backwards. The roots of a small hawthorn bush nearby sprang up out of the ground with whip-like speed. Spewing up earth, they wrapped around his arms and legs and he found himself securely bound to the floor with the base of his back pressed up against a small rock. "_**O**__**þþéode!**_" he shouted and one of the roots snapped, but two more took their place.

Bryce lowered himself down on another rock opposite. "Don't take it personally," he said.

"It's a little tricky not to," Merlin muttered, and then they sat in silence, waiting for Arthur to arrive.

* * *

Arthur groaned as blackness brightened into poorly illuminated grey. _Not again._ He began to push himself up from his lying-down position, hitting his head on the roof of the tunnel. _Ouch! _At least this time he remained conscious. As his vision swam mockingly about in front of him for the second time that day he blinked his thoughts back to him. His chin was grazed and by the feel of it, so were his chest, arms and knees. He was also further along the tunnel than he was before. Merlin must have dragged him.

Merlin? Where was he? That boy would be the death of him.

He crawled along the remainder of the tunnel towards the pale sunlight and scrambled out of its end, leaping to his feet as soon as he possibly could and drawing his weapon from its scabbard. He didn't recognise this place.

He gasped silently. _Merlin! _His eyes fell on the restrained young man and his insides recoiled.

"He's playing! He won't hurt me, Arthur," Merlin called out. "Don't provoke him!"

"Stop being dim," Arthur muttered. He advanced on Bryce who was sat motionless, watching his every move with intense curiosity.

"He just wants to rile you. Don't rise to it. He wants to provoke a reaction."

"I'll not just stand by in inaction!" argued Arthur assertively. Not wanting to be caught off-guard, he fixed his sight on Bryce like a hawk, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword."

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, but the stubborn prince refused to listen.

"Do you always solve your problems with muscle and steel?" said Bryce .

"I don't feel we could ever cut a deal," Arthur told him.

"And why is that do you suppose?"

"What you stand for, I oppose. . . . And even _if_ the chance arose, what sort of plan would you propose? I imagine you'd want freedom, release – yet your actions threaten Camelot's peace. That's why I must ensure they cease."

"Let us resolve this like civilized persons"

"Then give yourself up before the situation worsens."

"Alas, that's an option I shan't be choosing," Bryce uttered with a smile

"_Why_ do you find this so amusing?"

"You're threatening me and yet there's fear in your eyes."

"Underestimating sorcerers can be unwise."

"Yet I'm a doddery old fool, well past my prime."

"Age does not excuse your crime."

Bryce heaved out a raspy chuckle, which developed into a laboured cough, which was unexpected by Arthur and which clearly unsettled the old man. But it could be a ploy, a play for sympathy, and Arthur wasn't about to fall for it if it was.

"We shall see," said Bryce once he had recovered and stood up to face him. "There is very little you can do to me now. I led you here to offer you my help whilst the opportunity still exists. In return, I ask that you let me leave this place a free man."

"I don't think I can. If it wasn't for your persistence and insistence on a criminal existence, I'd have no _need_ for your assistance. I have a responsibility that comes with my position and refuse to barter with any magician. Reverse this curse. If my demand is ignored, my speech will be restored by the tip of a sword."

"Don't forget what Gaius said; we can't be sure that'll work!" Merlin shouted out urgently. Arthur paused at his friend's words and Bryce eyed the exchange between the two men with keen interest.

"It's a duty that I cannot shirk. If it were for me to decide. . . ," Arthur said hesitantly, "but the law must come before my pride."

"But if you kill him now, you could be stuck like this good. He's offering you a peaceful solution. Surely that's best for goodness' sake."

"He's a sorcerer – it would be a mistake!"

Arthur watched Merlin slump backwards with a groan. Why was Merlin being so insistent in this matter when he'd seen for himself what damage magic could cause, when he was being held captive by a sorcerer now? Merlin wasn't the sort to be coerced. And neither was Arthur.

Yet Arthur got the uncomfortable sensation that he was being backed into a corner. He loathed this feeling of helplessness, but he wanted to avoid turning this into a fight if possible. He'd been a soldier long enough to know that fighting wasn't always the best solution. Nevertheless, was he willing to go against his own principles and the laws of Camelot for his own convenience? Ordinarily no – but now?

"Evidently our senses of justice are at odds," Bryce said. "Pity. Given who you are, I was hoping you had more potential."

"Who I am is inconsequential." Arthur took a deep unsteady breath. "However. . . if I am required to be influential, my normal speech is essential. You led us here and you have my ear. Unveil what this will entail in every detail." The warrior lowered his sword slightly as a gesture of marginally less ill-will.

"No!" responded Bryce stubbornly and Arthur was taken aback. "I have changed my mind. You have already shown yourself to be too much your father's son."

Quickly he adopted a defensive stance with a fleeting 'I told you so' glance at Merlin, who wore an expression of betrayal, but not directed at him.

"_**Ic diefe þé tó héafodwóþa. Híere áncyn mé,**_" the sorcerer chanted in Arthur's direction. Arthur steeled himself and prepared for a magical blow which never came. Other than a slight buzzing in his ears he strangely felt no different.

"In case you get ideas above your station," Bryce added to Merlin, who had begun fighting against the roots that bound him, glaring back at his captor with a look of anger mingled with. . . disappointment? Arthur refused to stand for these kind of games. He strode purposely forward with the point of his sword thrust furiously in Bryce's direction.

"I demand an explanation of that incantation and reversal of my debilitation. Your sorcery is an abomination and completely outlawed in this nation, making you worthy of condemnation. But despite my overwhelming reservation, I _may_ yet concede mitigation in exchange for complete termination of all acts of magical application and the liberation without hesitation of my servant whose competence is in disputation."

Bryce raised an eyebrow. "I sense irritation at your situation."

"Cease mocking my articulation!" The tip of Arthur's sword nicked Bryce's neck, but still the old man didn't flinch.

"_**Hæte," **_Bryce commanded and Arthur grimaced in pain as he was forced to relinquish hold of the glowing hot metal he had been clutching, white knuckled, in his fist. The sword fell to the ground with a harmless thump.

"Are you angry?" Bryce asked in a slightly strained voice, as Arthur pushed his frail frame against the sheer rocky hillside. ""Or perhaps anxious?"

Arthur made to respond but found he couldn't. He stopped, gaping, but he could not find words that could leave his lips. Fury bubbled up inside him. It was only then that he noticed Merlin who had been strangely silent during all of this. Despite this his mouth was clearly moving but Arthur could hear nothing he was trying to communicate. Either Merlin was mute or he himself was deaf to his voice. He remembered Bryce's spell that had been directed at him. Most probably the latter then.

_'Magic!'_ He wanted to spit. He wanted to say something, to demand answers, but try as he might he could not. His grip on his taunter's robes tightened.

"You're out of your depth," Bryce choked.

The prince scowled. The sorcerer was toying with him, Arthur could see that. He'd also taken steps to ensure he couldn't hear Merlin say anything that would interfere with his imposed silence. That hadn't stopped Merlin trying though. What Merlin was doing mumbling with his eyes shut however, he couldn't hazard a guess, but he doubted it would do any good.

"You must forgive my little foibles," Bryce taunted. Arthur's jaw set hard. All he could do was wait for Bryce to tire or slip up. Damn this stupid spell!


End file.
